Page 48 of I’m Already Gone

“I hate this for you, Lily,” she whispers brokenly.

Comforting words are on the tip of my tongue, but I have no energy, no strength to open my mouth and speak. I hate that instead of hanging out with her friends, instead of living her carefree college life, she’s here, taking care of me.

Maybe it’s time I stop being so stubborn and tell my parents. And Ethan.

After I’m bathed, feeling cleaner but no less drained, I use whatever strength I have left and push myself up. Sam wraps a thick towel around me, but the sudden movement, combined with the lingering smell of vomit in the air, makes my stomach lurch again.

“I’m going to be sick,” I warn Sam. She doesn’t hesitate, lowering me gently to the cold bathroom floor, positioning me over the toilet.

“I need to clean the bedroom quickly and throw your clothes in the wash,” she says, already moving.

I shake my head, a small, weak motion that sends a throbbing pain through my temples. “Throw it out,” I whisper.

“Really?”

I nod once, my gaze fixed on the porcelain bowl.

When she steps out of the bathroom, the tiled floor feels cold against my bare skin, but I welcome it. It numbs the pain that vibrates through my bones.

I hear shuffling sounds from the bedroom, the rustle of sheets being stripped from the bed. After a few minutes, Sam walks back into the bathroom right as my stomach finally settles.

“Come on, sis,” Sam says, her hand on my shoulder. “Let’s get you into bed.”

It takes a minute, but I finally find a sliver of strength and pull myself off the floor. She leads me into the bedroom, which now smells like Lysol. She pulls back the covers, and I slip under the crisp, cool sheets. The exhaustion wins, and I pass out the moment my head hits the pillow.

Lily

Sunlight pours through the blinds, landing directly on my face and rousing me from sleep. My eyelids flutter against the brightness, and I shift to my side, seeking relief from the harsh glare. As I turn, my eyes find Jake standing in the doorway, his tall frame filling the space.

“Hey,” I say hoarsely.

He doesn’t respond but steps into the room and comes to the side of the bed.

“Are you going to work today?” I ask him.

“I’m leaving soon. I wanted to check on you first,” he says quietly.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” I ask him.

He covers my hand with his and gently squeezes. “I hate Dad.”

“What? Why would you say that?”

“Because if he didn’t hurt you, you never would’ve left him. And now you’re sick, and he’s not here to help you.”

“Oh, sweetheart. I understand why you’re angry because I’ve felt that way, too. And it’s okay to be disappointed in his choices, but hate is a strong word. Your father loves you and your sister very much. Don’t ever doubt that.”

He nods and looks back up at me from our joined hands. “Are you sure you’re okay? I’ve never seen you this sick before, Mom.”

I nod. “I’m fine, Jake. Please don’t worry.”

After a moment of silence, he looks at me, doubt flickering in his eyes. Leaning in, he kisses my forehead. “Feel better, Mom. I love you,” he murmurs.

“I love you too.”

Once he’s out of the room, I hear him say goodbye to Sam, and the front door closing.

I lay in bed for a minute before I get up, trying to calm the dizziness so I won’t fall on my ass. After brushing my teeth and hair, I throw on my old college sweatshirt and matching sweats with my fluffy slippers that have the grippers on the soles.